Hi, motherfuckers. It’s me again. Have you checked the boxscores lately? You should. That’s if you can count high enough.

Can you count to 25? Bet you can’t, motherfucker. That’s how many hits we smacked off the Devil Rays yesterday. And we had 20 hits the day before. I coulda put Helen Keller in there and she woulda gone 4-5 with a jack and six RBIs.

Probably a good thing Keller’s not on our team. Otherwise Jeter would go off being all Captain Pussyman and try to get his knob slobbed.

It’s also a good thing Alex is hitting because otherwise I’d stick a bat up his ass. Should see that guy’s ego. Fucking bigger than my johnson. He demands we call him A-big-Rod. Narcissistic fuck. But he hits home runs. I like that in a man.

So people were saying the playoffs were out of reach. Well I say fuck that, motherfucker. We’re five over, only seven and a half out of first, still in the Wild Card hunt. You know what “hunt” sorta sounds like? No. Not that. You sick fuck. It’s sounds like bunt, something we haven’t been having to do much of lately. We just hit homers and doubles and fucking more homers. Barry Bonds should be looking over his shoulder because Shelley Duncan’s coming for him.

Speaking of Shelley, I like that he’s been hitting home runs, because if he wasn’t, I’d probably have Matsui take a fucking Samurai sword to his johnson. What kind of name is Shelley? Grow a pair of tits and I’ll call you Shelley, motherfucker. Until then, I’m calling your ass Joe. Cuz that’s a fucking man’s name. Guy’s named Joe hit home runs.

This hit parade the last few days was all my doing. Four rings can do that. I tell ’em to go hit the fuck out of the ball and they fucking listen because I have four fucking rings, motherfucker.

We’ll be in this thing by the end. We’re hotter than Damon’s last piece of ass. When this thing’s said and done, each finger on my right hand will be covered in jewelry. Oh, you think I’m arrogant? I’m confident, motherfucker. And confidence wins ball games. So does 25 hits. Motherfucker.